When Syun-Ichi Akasofu first approached Ted Stevens, the Japanese-American
leader of the University of Alaska Fairbanks' Geophysical Institute
was desperate - the institute's rocket range had no money to
maintain or improve its structures and equipment.

Akasofu traveled to Washington,
D.C., to meet the powerhouse Alaska senator. When Akasofu reached
Stevens' office, the senator informed him that he needed to head
to Capitol Hill.

The late U.S. Senator
Ted Stevens with Syun-Ichi Akasofu, founder of
the International Arctic Research Center.
Photo courtesy of Syun-Ichi Akasofu.

"Can I come with you?" Akasofu asked.

"I don't see why not,"
Stevens said.

On the brief train ride, Akasofu
pled his case for funds that would allow improvements to the
rocket range his institute and the university had no money for.
Stevens listened to him and deemed Akasofu's cause important
enough to turn around.

"Let's go back to the
office right now," Stevens said.

The men caught a train going
the other way. Stevens assembled his staff and brainstormed until
they found a way to fund a $20 million upgrade to Poker Flat
Research Range.

"My persuasion was no
good," Akasofu said. "He had a genuine fascination
in science, and he was interested in the aurora. That's why he
helped, choosing it over what must have been hundreds of other
requests."

Akasofu, 80, recently sat down
to remember his friend who did so much to help fund Alaska science.
Ted Stevens died in the crash of a small aircraft north of Dillingham
on August 9. He was 86.

From that early meeting with
Stevens, Akasofu developed a relationship with the senator, who
regarded the former director of the Geophysical Institute and
founder of the International Arctic Research Center as an advisor
on scientific matters. They seemed a fitting pair - two men who
were small of stature but had risen to lofty positions within
their different fields.

In addition to the salvation
of the university-owned rocket range, Akasofu credits Stevens
with jumpstarting the Alaska Volcano Observatory after the 1989
eruption of Redoubt Volcano. After a jet flew through the ash
cloud near Anchorage, and its pilot struggled to land the plane
when all four engines seized, volcanologists in Anchorage and
Fairbanks knew they could help prevent a repeat in the future.
But ash from volcanoes was a hazard that federal agencies like
the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, U.S. Geological
Survey and Federal Aviation Administration didn't consider their
responsibility at the time.

"I was told the only person
who could ask three different departments to do something was
the president," Akasofu said.

Not knowing the president,
Akasofu asked the next best person. Stevens came through again
with funding, and the Alaska Volcano Observatory was soon a reality.

"Again, I think he had
that genuine interest in science," Akasofu said.

Akasofu also pointed out a
concrete, glass and steel example of Stevens' scientific curiosity
and the clout that could make dreams into reality. As a founding
scientist of UAF's International Arctic Research Center, Akasofu
had secured the Japanese government's commitment to support a
research institute where scientists explored the causes of a
changing climate. The Japanese were willing to fund one half
of the start-up costs of the center. In response to Akasofu's
request, Stevens wrote letters of support to Japan's prime minister
and also found money for the project via the National Science
Foundation. Eventually, those funds made it northward. The International
Arctic Research Center, one of the most striking buildings on
UAF's campus, opened in 1999.

"Without him, Poker (Flat
Research Range) would be closed, and there would be no IARC or
AVO," Akasofu said.

On the day he learned of Ted
Stevens' death, Akasofu drove to the International Arctic Research
Center, where he works on several projects since retiring as
director. He sat at his desk, but got nothing done.

"I couldn't work that
day, I was so upset," he said. "It was the same feeling
as losing my father.

"I don't know how other
people saw it, but I thought we were pretty close. He was a very
warm-hearted person, really genuine. And it wasn't just a gesture
I was kind of embarrassed by him a few times. Though I would
always give him space when I saw him at functions, because everybody
wanted to talk with him, he always saw me and then came over
and bear-hugged me."

This column is provided
as a public service by the Geophysical Institute, University
of Alaska Fairbanks, in cooperation with the UAF research community.
Ned Rozell [nrozell@gi.alaska.edu]
is a science writer at the institute.